


Unbroken

by Dawnshadow



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Bondage With Paper, Ch2: Manipulative Ascian is Manipulative, Chapter 2 only: 5.2 spoilers, Claw Play, Consent Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s, Dirty Talk, Embarassment, Explicit and Thorough Descriptions of Self-Pleasure, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Obedience Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Purple Prose, Questionable Tests of Loyalty, Spoilers: Let's Say 3.4 To Be Safe, Taking Urianger's Goggles Off Without Express Permission, The Moonman Cometh?, Timeline: During Heavensward MSQ, blindfolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnshadow/pseuds/Dawnshadow
Summary: Elidibus proposes to Urianger a test of trust, willpower and loyalty alike-- allowing the Ascian to bind him in ribbons of paper and do to him what he will.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Elidibus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	1. Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Nozomi Kei for the title suggestion, Micah, Tenkeyless, Frostmantle, Nozomi (again), Kayura, and probably some people I missed (I'm so sorry looking through Discord backlog is a pain) for general feedback/aftercare advice/HQ icons on preview snippets, and Sparrow for posting the image that started it all. (The cover of a book titled "The Moonman Cometh: A Christmas Story." Don't ask how it led to THIS.)
> 
> The reason why the consent has issues should be self-evident from the pairing and timeline alone. This is HW. They're trying to manipulate each other. Urianger doesn't have a lot of space to decline without putting his mission at risk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Original

"A test?" Urianger asked, his head tilted. This was hardly the first time the Emissary had visited his quarters in the Waking Sands unannounced—usually with a book to read that supported his arguments, at times wishing to further discuss the matters at hand, to try to persuade him further. For all Urianger's effort in deceiving him, he was fairly certain that Elidibus knew he wasn't entirely committed—that he still sought some plan that would save the First Shard from the Light without resigning it to the fate of another Rejoining, another Calamity.

"Yes." Elidibus hadn't stopped smirking since he'd appeared. "A test of your willpower and loyalty alike. It will be trying, perhaps, but I promise that you will come to no harm. In fact, you might learn something new about yourself. I swear upon my god that it will end the moment you decide it ends."

He hesitated. But, in sooth—were he to earn the Ascian's trust—what choice had he but to acquiesce? He nodded. "What must I do?"

"Here. Lie down in your bed."

Urianger did, looking at him curiously... and then the Ascian moved, climbing atop to straddle him. He tensed, uncertain of what he was _doing,_ and watched as he conjured lengths of what appeared to be crimson paper streamers. The Emissary wrapped his wrists in the crimson paper—first attaching one to the headboard, then the other. A sharp tug would be more than sufficient to break them. How was this to do anything to hold him here?

"There." Oh, he looked smug. "Now... if you break those, I'll stop. Do you understand, my Archon?"

"Thine intent is fully clear." So... that was the game. One of self-control—if he did not remain in position, this would end prematurely. Or were he truly discomforted, he could always break the paper deliberately... It was a clever compromise. "I bid thee proceed, as thou desirest."

"Very good boy." Urianger shivered... and then the Emissary started to _touch_ , talons raking gently across his throat, then moving to undo the buttons of his tunic, the air cool against his heated skin. "You would do well to keep in mind that you should not be too loud, my Archon—the walls are thick, but not so thick that you would not be overheard, I fear." The talons traced over his collarbone, then bit—scratching hard enough to doubtlessly leave a welt, although he didn't think he drew blood. He bit his lip, realizing that his goggles were, in this case, acting as blinders, and forced himself to be very still, trembling, face flushing deeply as he realized his body was unquestionably _responding_ to this... admittedly dubious test of loyalty.

"You're enjoying this, are you not?" The question made him flush all the more for it. He opened his mouth, but only gasped as the talons ran cold over his skin, imagining vividly the crimson lines their scratches must have been leaving in their wake, and wondered what matter of pattern he was making. If a pattern at all—

And then the claws _pinched_ , and he hissed in pain, his wrists jerking reflexively—though not so much as to tear the paper. "Answer me, Archon."

It took all his focus to gasp the answer. "Y-yes—I—"

"Yes, _what_?" Elidibus was smirking, the claws tracing more lightly again... down, opening the tunic further, starting to expose his belly, drawing the claws over his pectorals, then down his ribs. Urianger shivered and forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes before he responded, his voice as steady as he could make it.

"Yes. Emissary. This is far from unpleasant." Oh, how he could imagine those talons _elsewhere._ "I—nn—I had not expected—"

"You are not so difficult to read as you believe yourself to be. I thought you would enjoy being good for me. Which you are, my Archon... so very well-behaved so far." The talons traced back up, now, over his arms. "Your eyes are closed... you'd enjoy being blindfolded, I'm certain." Elidibus sounded so very smug. "It would help you focus on the important things... the way I'm touching you. The way my every word makes your ears twitch ever-so-slightly." One of the claws played over the tip of his ear, the unexpected touch drawing a very undignified cry from his lips. "It's really quite endearing."

He resisted the urge to squirm—'twas far more difficult than he would ever have thought it to be still when being _teased_ in such ways—and prayed that the Emissary noticed not what excitement he'd stirred 'twixt his loins. "I would imagine it would become all the more difficult to be still, lacking vision to distract me."

"Ah, yes, it would be. But you've proven yourself thus far to be excellent at self-control. I think you require a still greater challenge." How the words seemed to crawl down his spine only to settle warm in his gut. "Here." And then he felt his goggles drawn from his face— the Emissary clearly mindful of his claws in this process— and flushed deeply at being so exposed. He blinked up at the Emissary, only to see him holding a length of white cloth. "Now, lift your head for me. Just enough that I can slip this under you."

The cloth proved soft—luxuriantly so—and thick enough to block all vision. He lifted his head, and felt Elidibus tuck it into his hood, behind his head. No need to tie it, he supposed. "That's it. Relax now." As he lay his head back down, he felt the man's lips press warm to his brow—his breath catching as he processed the sensation. Then warm breath at his ear. "Yes. Very, very good boy," Elidibus breathed, the words alone enough to make Urianger _moan_ , then flush so deeply in shame. "Don't think it escaped my notice how you react when I say that, my sweet Archon. I don't think they give you nearly the credit or praise you deserve. So very intelligent. Patient. Devoted, obedient." He heard a soft click to his left, and wondered what it had been. "You needn't be ashamed. How often do you share your bed?"

He was too startled by his question to lie. "Never have I been wont to seek out the pleasures of the flesh. ...Emissary." His face still so hot with mortification. Yet he remained as still as he could will himself to be, the paper binds untorn.

"And what of taking matters into your own hands?" Elidibus sounded so very amused, the talons once more raking over Urianger's upper chest. "I would hear your confession, my Archon."

He shivered, hesitating; the talons bit again, not so harshly this time. Warning him. "I—at times, when my flesh demandest—as any man would." These were not the sort of questions he'd _expected_ from the stoic man. "'Tis not aught I oft indulge in, nonetheless."

"Do go on." He was almost purring, the light scratching changing to a gentle stroke along his skin—stinging where his hands pressed over the deeper scratches. His hands were smooth, startlingly soft and deft. "I wish I could ask you to demonstrate. Alas, we will both need settle for your eloquent words."

Urianger swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Thou meanest that I should describe in detail how I—relieve my tension?"

"Very, very astute, Archon." He felt the Emissary press a kiss to his collarbone—something soft that tickled as it brushed over his skin. Hair? Shouldn't he be able to feel the mask pressing into his skin? Unless... had he removed the mask, once Urianger was safely blinded. "Yes," Elidibus commanded. "In detail, if you would."

"I will typically start by further riling my desire, for I have found 'tis sweetest when drawn out. I have little interest, I have found, in static visual depiction, but I have a few well-enjoyed tomes of erotic poetry, and other tales in prose recounting sensual encounters at length... some realistic, others clearly products of a keen imagination and a busy left hand."

"It's a pity you're in the position you're in, with neither hands nor eyes at liberty. Maybe next time I'll ask you to read to me while I _test_ you so." (And oh! the suggestion that there would be a _next time_ made him quiver.) The kisses trailed down his chest, the silky hair brushing over his skin making it even more a struggle to remain still, so as to not break the bindings prematurely. "And then...?"

"And then—once I am no longer capable of further patience, I place the book aside so as to not sully it and open my robe, or at times doff it entire. I meditate upon what I have read and... stroke myself, accordingly to the fantasy in my mind. At times quick and forceful, at other times slow, bringing myself to the brink as a wave upon the shore—approaching and receding 'til I can no longer bear it."

"I see." He felt the robe being opened further, warm breath against his belly and down, the sweep of hair making him squirm. And then the hand brushed over the taut fabric of his smalls—his skin heating as he knew the Emissary could not help but notice how very roused he was. "Poor, poor Archon," he purred. "Why did you not tell me you were uncomfortable?" He felt a cold talon—the blunt back, for a mercy—pressed against his shrouded member and gasped, once again coming perilously close to _moving_. He felt the smalls tugged on, then heard the sound of fabric sundered by a talon's delicate touch, the tension across his prick suddenly released, his full tumescence at last revealed. "Unfortunately, I've taken from you the use of your hands. How cruel of me, really. Will you end this now and take care of your own need? I would take no offense; you have already more than proven yourself. But, if you would prefer to remain bound and obedient to my desires, I will help to relieve your tension." He drew away; Urianger could imagine his smirk. "You need only ask, my Archon."

It took him long seconds to find his tongue, his head spinning in desire and shame. "I—prithee. Touch me—stroke me— bring me to spill for thy hand, for thy words, and in this find proof of my surrender and my devotion."

"Such an obedient, ardent servant you've turned out to be." He heard an odd sound, rustling cloth and clinking metal, and then something else set aside. One of his gloves, he was certain, and this was confirmed when he felt a warm hand—unbraced by talon's chill—close around his prick and squeeze it firmly. "Let this be your reward for being so very well-behaved."

Urianger moaned, more loudly than he'd expected, although he managed to remain very still for his—for the Emissary, even when he started to stroke—his grip still firm, but not harsh, not painful. In fact, he was almost delicate in his motions, respectful of his supposed servant's inexperience. Urianger bit his lip, fighting to keep quiet.

"Yes," Elidibus murmured. "Good boy... good... share with me your thoughts?"

And oh—he found himself whimpering in lust at the praise. "Thy—thy hand, wonderful—"

"Yes... yes, it is. What do you think of servicing me in other ways? I can think of no few means by which you could prove yourself further." Elidibus kept stroking slowly, his hand steady, fueling his desire. "Envision for me, if you would, being on your knees before me?"

Urianger did, his breathing turning to gasps. "Yes—I would offer the use of my mouth, to return to thee the favor thou hast offered unto me on this day." It was taking far too much focus to ensure the binds remained unbroken—he wished he was bound more securely so that he could surrender himself, concentration entirely on the feel of his hand—"Suckle so obediently upon thy member, listening to thy sounds of pleasure and delight 'til I drew from it thy seed."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. Such a good boy--" And he stroked more quickly and firmly, making Urianger gasp and arch—mindful to not allow the motion to carry to his wrists—only to just as suddenly slow again. The praise was already heady enough, but to pair it with the memory of obedience and intense physical pleasure—

"Is it thine intent to see me _trained_ to greater submission?" And with that notion he was at war with himself, one part rational enough to be well aware of how dangerous such a suggestion was; the other—the part the Emissary was now stroking with word and hand alike—finding the fantasy impossibly alluring nonetheless. And the hand on his erection continued its endeavor, a little firmer and faster once more as he asked the question, and Urianger found himself gasping again.

"It is. Of course it is." And his voice was as sweet velvet, dyed the color of midnight sky. "You are a wonderful servant, and I would enjoy little more than training you further. So responsive, so eager to please, and your reactions delight me. Tell me the truth: does the thought of obeying my commands—of being a _good_ boy for me-- not quicken your arousal all the more?"

He felt himself flush again, finding himself answering before he had a chance to think his answer through. "I—Emissary—it does—" And he could hardly protest without betraying his true allegiances. His answer was rewarded with another half-dozen firm, quick strokes before Elidibus' hand returned to its former steady pace, making him cry out and take a moment to catch his breath before he continued. "Thine every word of praise is sweet as honey," Urianger continued—occasionally gasping as Elidibus' hand continued along his increasingly-sensitive flesh—"and thy hand—when the stroking is swift and intense, it is bliss. Even when it is slow, it is... far better than my own ever hath been."

"Yes—" Elidibus all but growled, his hand once again moving more quickly, this time bringing him closer—closer still before once more slowing, leaving Urianger biting back needful groans. "I would like to put your obedience and self-control to the absolute test, my Archon. And I will not fault you for failure... but, should you succeed, your reward will be sweet. Do you think you can be good for me, once more?"

"I—yes, yes, prithee, test me—" Urianger was trembling; he could feel his member twitching in the Emissary's hand, the air all the colder where drops betraying his arousal had pooled at its tip. "What must I do?"

"I've two commands. First, do not break your bindings—remember that this ends the moment you do." His other hand—the gloved hand—traced cool talons over his arm, across his chest... "The second is that you will come when _and only when_ I command it." The talon moved down across the head of his prick, frigid over the hot flesh, making him shudder.

It took all Urianger had to resist the wave of bliss that threatened to overcome him. He nodded, not trusting his voice, feeling himself quiver, fighting to keep his hands still. And then his Emissary continued stroking with his ungloved hand—firm, quick—the cold talons tracing his thighs, gently teasing his sack. He cried out, pressing his head back into the mattress, wanting more than anything to lash and writhe, then bit his lip. He stroked harder, faster—then stopped, drawing a frustrated cry from Urianger's lips.

"Remember. Not until I command it. Be good for me." Then the sweet stroking began once more—the cool claws biting into the skin of his thighs, then back up, circling the base of his prick, even as the ungloved hand stroked up and down and back up, palm playing over the sensitive place where the head joined the shaft. And yet he was good—keening in pleasure, but he did not move—did not spill—

"Yes... so good. So beautiful." Urianger blushed deeply. He'd been called many things, but beautiful was typically not one of them. "I wish you could see yourself—so close to undone, and yet so very _controlled,_ for no other reason than because I commanded it—" And his hand closed tighter, stroked fast. "Spill for me."

And he did—hips pressing into his hand, the pleasure coming in bright waves. He felt his seed splash high on his stomach—so hard—so good—he cried out so loudly as it overcame him—

He wasn't sure how long it was before he realized himself again, but he roused to the feeling of a warm, wet cloth over his thighs and belly. He tried to move—only to feel a faint resistance at his wrist. Somehow—somehow he had managed—

"Yes. Beyond all expectations." Elidibus sounded pleased. "Here." He felt something press at the paper, then the sound of metal slicing through it. Taloned fingers grasped his wrists and gently lowered them, folding them to his chest. "You did well, so well. I'm very pleased with you." He felt as if he were floating. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and just drifted. He heard the sound of cloth and metal again, felt a blanket wrapped around him. A gentle hand stroking his hair—he hadn't noticed his hood being pulled down—"That's it. Just relax. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." The hands moved to rub his arms and wrists, the motion pleasant against tense muscles, and he found himself drifting in and out of a light doze.

He eventually felt up to moving. He sat up slowly, the blindfold falling away, and squinted into lamplight that seemed entirely too bright. Elidibus—once more masked— was still there (having borrowed his desk chair to sit next to the bed) and seemed entirely unruffled, save for his gloves once again resting on his desk, rather than on the Emissary's hands. "Water—" Urianger croaked, and was not surprised to find that Elidibus had a glass at hand.

"Here." The Emissary held the glass to his lips, and he drank—and drank, and drank, downing over half the glass before he stopped. "Is there anything else you need, right now?"

Urianger considered the question. "Prithee. Stay." He realized he was trembling.

"Of course. Here, let me help you come down." Elidibus stood and climbed into the bed, and with some work arranged himself so Urianger was partly leaning on him and partly lying down, head resting against the smaller man's chest, cocooned securely in the blanket. He held a berry to Urianger's lips (Urianger wondered where he'd found the berry,) and Urianger saw no reason to refuse it. "That's it..." His tone was soothing, as if he were calming a frightened pet. "The food will help. I pushed you hard—likely in ways you've not experienced in the past. I'm very proud of how well you did, how obedient you were."

Urianger nibbled the berry, then looked up at him. From this angle he could see that his cheeks were flushed; when offered the next berry he licked the Emissary's fingers, drawing from him heavier breaths. Threatening his composure.

"Now, be good, my Archon. Right now, I need to focus on _you_. We can play again another day." He was grinning as he continued to feed him berries, however. "Now, I need you to answer my questions completely and honestly. Can you do that?"

Urianger nodded, and the next berry he ate in a far less provocative manner. "As thou desirest."

"How do you feel right now?" Elidibus asked.

"Better. Still light-headed-- floating. 'Tis difficult—compose thoughts to words. Not... not eloquent." This, naturally, greatly displeased him.

"It's all right." Elidibus stroked his hair, then offered another berry. "It's typical to be overwhelmed after such an experience. It will pass in due time." Urianger ate the next berry, then the next. "How do the scratches feel? Are any of them sharply painful?"

Urianger remembered—reached a hand up to feel them, lacking the energy to move the blanket enough to look. Mostly raised welts, a few that had broken skin. None deeply enough to draw more than a token amount of blood. He shook his head after exploring them.

"Good. You may heal them if you desire, but I was careful to only place them in areas covered by your robes. I confess, it fills me with no small amount of excitement to imagine you going about your business, reminded constantly of how I _tested_ you every time the linen of your robe rubs against the healing marks."

Urianger outright squirmed at this, the words seeming to settle between his thighs, despite otherwise being thoroughly sated. Upon due consideration, he saw no need whatsoever to heal the scratches. He looked up at Elidibus, searching for words, only for the Ascian to capture his lips, kissing him—he moaned softly, enjoying the feel of his lips.

"You taste of berries." He smiled, offering him another, and another. And, when Urianger was at last full, Elidibus cradled him close, once more gently stroking his hair. "Rest. I'll stay with you tonight. I've already ensured that we will be undisturbed until you've fully recovered."

Urianger nodded—still not feeling eloquent—and nestled against his chest. Sleep—sweet and undisturbed-- came to him easily, and 'twas not until well into the day after the next that he became ready to search his memory of this encounter for what potential weaknesses Elidibus had revealed to him in the process.


	2. Unbroken: Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbroken, but this time it's Elidibus' perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike part I, this part has very heavily implied spoilers through and including 5.2. It's also running on speculation/headcanon that might get demolished before the end of ShB unless I'm very on point with my guesswork.

Oh, such a _wonderful_ tool his Archon was turning out to be. So clever, for a sundered soul... and as easily manipulated as any of them. A few truths forgotten to the Source, a handful of carefully curated books of prophecy to nudge his thoughts in the right direction, and the promise of a world to be saved to act as a leash—if he strayed too far from the path it would doubtlessly be lost for want of his attentions, after all. And saved the First would be, if not in the way the Archon hoped.

But there were always ways to bind the Sundered all the further. He wanted the Archon not only leashed, but truly rendered _loyal_. "A test?" the Archon asked, his head tilting as it often did when he found himself perplexed, frowning as he _clearly_ turned the suggestion around in his head, examining it from all angles.

"Yes. A test of your willpower and loyalty alike." A challenge he would not back down from even when pushed to his limits, as Elidibus well planned to, and the _suggestion_ that he was already faithful, pressing him into the position of acting as such. Training, after all, was simply a way to encourage the formation of habits, and loyalty and obedience were two such habits. "It will be trying, perhaps, but I promise that you will come to no harm. In fact, you might learn something new about yourself. I swear upon my god that it will end the moment you decide it ends." It wouldn't do to _break_ his toy.

The Archon frowned, considering his words. "What must I do?" he finally asked.

"Lie down in your bed." Where he would be vulnerable, as well as properly positioned for the _test_. The Archon complied, giving him another of those tilted-head looks. He was so very reserved, so distant. Enjoyed personal space, clearly. And so that was what Elidibus would take from him. Swiftly—before he could protest—he climbed onto the bed with the Archon, straddling him, and while he was still frozen in shock at the intrusion conjured paper ribbons and bound him in them. They were, of course, weak enough to be broken on a whim, but that was the entire point. He had faith that his will alone was enough to keep his Archon bound as firmly as any manacle he could Create. The paper was merely symbolic. "There," he murmured, once the bindings were done. "Now. If you break these, I'll stop. Do you understand, my Archon?" Granting the mortal the illusion of control over his own fate—he would not be able to honestly tell himself he'd been _forced_.

The confusion cleared from the Archon's expression at those words. "Thine intent is fully clear." He frowned, clearly considering his predicament. "I bid thee proceed, as thou desirest."

"Very good boy." And his reaction made it clear that Elidibus had interpreted subtle tells correctly. Some among the Sundered enjoyed guidance and praise, even craved it. He traced his talons over the Archon's throat—a subtle reminder of how very _powerless_ he was—then started to open his robe, to expose him to the cool underground air. "You would do well to keep in mind that you should not be too loud, my Archon—the walls are thick, but not so thick that you would not be overheard, I fear." The Archon didn't need to know that he was not reliant on walls alone to keep his secrets—Elidibus had, of course, set a spell of silence around the room. It would not do to be overheard at this junction. But to see him _try_ to remain quiet through Elidibus' test, to torment him so subtlety with the fear of being caught submitting in such a carnal manner, would be no small joy.

Elidibus slowly trailed the claws over his collarbone, then placed more pressure on the next stroke, mindful to not draw blood. The Archon bit his lip, trembling from the strain of staying perfectly still, his face a deep crimson, breath coming quickly as Elidibus opened the robe further. His talons scratched along the mortal's skin, marking him in faint red lines and even fainter traces of astral power with sigils that would serve both to protect him and mark him as the possession of Zodiark's very hand on this Star. It would not do to lose such a precious tool to the vagaries of fate prematurely. And, oh, how perfectly he was responding. "You're enjoying this, are you not?" He knew the answer already, of course, but he wanted to make sure his Archon knew he knew and, more importantly, _confessed_ to his pleasure.

The Archon turned all the more crimson. He opened his mouth, clearly intending to speak, but only gasped. His attention seemed to be drifting. Perhaps, then, it was time for the first _true_ test. Elidibus stroked his claws over his skin a few more times—taking a moment to admire the sigilwork—then _pinched_. Not hard enough to injure, just enough to properly discipline the Archon for his reticence. The elezen jerked, though not enough to break the paper—Elidibus took careful note of this for future use. "Answer me, Archon," he demanded, allowing his voice to become stern, commanding, and suppressed a smirk when the Archon's hips shifted ever-so-slightly.

The Archon frowned, clearly focusing, fighting to obey. "Y-yes—I—" he finally choked out. Good... but not quite good enough.

"Yes, what?" He started to trace his skin with the talons again, no longer firmly enough to mark his flesh, just enough to _remind_ him before he continued to open his tunic—exposing more flesh—then slid the claws over and down his ribs, drawing a shiver from the Archon. He was clearly trying to steady himself, and so it became Elidibus' role to make finding his balance a difficult task, even as his eyes closed, as he breathed deeply. He was good at this.

"Yes, Emissary." His voice was so very laden with tension, desire, yearning. "This is far from unpleasant. I—nn—I had not expected—" _Far_ from unpleasant, indeed—he was flushed and sweat-damped, his ears clearly flicking slightly when Elidibus spoke, even through the linen hood that cloaked them.

Elidibus smirked, leaning closer to murmur close to one of those twitching ears. "You are not so difficult to read as you believe yourself to be," he purred, and was quite gratified to see the Elezen shiver below him. "I thought you would _enjoy_ being good for me. Which you are, my Archon... so very well-behaved so far." The Archon made no protest to being claimed as _his_ Archon, and a stroke up his arms only made him gasp softly. "Your eyes are closed," he observed. "You'd enjoy being blindfolded, I'm certain. It would help you focus on the important things... the way I'm touching you." And he stroked the claws up and down his arms, focusing on the sensitive underside. "The way my every word makes your ears twitch ever-so-slightly." He teased the tip of an ear; even though the cloth doubtlessly muted the sensation, the touch made him cry out in a _very_ satisfying manner nonetheless. "It's really quite endearing."

"I would imagine it would become all the more difficult to be still, lacking vision to distract me." His voice was trembling so beautifully. How wonderful it was, to see the measured, stoic elezen so undone with scarcely a few touches, a few words.

"Ah, yes, it would be," Elidibus responded, as if he hadn't considered that aspect until his Archon suggested it. "But you've proven yourself thus far to be excellent at self-control. I think you require a still greater challenge." The Archon trembled under him as he slipped his fingers under his goggles—careful to not catch his skin with talons—and removed them, setting them aside before Creating a length of soft white cloth. He was startled to find the Archon had strikingly yellow eyes—it was almost a pity to cover them. "Now, lift your head for me," he directed. "Just enough so I can slip this under you." The Archon complied, and he slipped the ends into the hood and under his ears, so that the weight of his head and the friction of the linen would suffice to hold it in place. "That's it." He kept his voice low, soothing. "Relax now."

The Archon lowered his head once more, seeming to relax now that his face was once again hidden. Now... to try to _torment_ him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his brow in feigned fondness, and was delighted to hear his breath catch. He moved, now leaning close to his ear, murmuring into it quietly. "Yes. Very, very good boy." And—all the more gratifying—the man _moaned,_ still deeply flushed, his desire more than evident. This was proving an excellent method of earning his devotion. "Don't think it escaped my notice how you react when I say that, my sweet Archon. I don't think they give you nearly the credit or praise you deserve. So very intelligent. Patient. Devoted, obedient."

The next step was to test his obedience against his driving curiosity. Grinning, Elidibus reached up and removed his mask, making sure he allowed it to click against the desk as he set it aside, then drew down his hood, loosing his hair. It was perfectly acceptable to unmask before one's lover... and it was not as if Urianger could see him unless he broke the binds and removed his blindfold. " You needn't be ashamed. How often do you share your bed?"

How very startled the elezen looked at the question, his tone betraying him even as he trembled in his effort to be perfectly still. "Never have I been wont to seek out the pleasures of the flesh... Emissary."

Elidibus once more drew the talons over his skin, lightly so as to not mar the sigils he'd placed. So responsive was his Archon, at once so timid and so bold. "And what of taking manners into your own hands? I would hear your confession, my Archon," he purred, and when the Archon hesitated, trembling all the more, he let the talons bite as a reminder of what discipline awaited the reluctant. 

"I—at times, when my flesh demandest—" he stammered, "as any man would. 'Tis not aught I oft indulge in, nonetheless."

Elidibus smiled. "Do go on." He let the pads of the fingers press against the Archon's skin instead of cold talons, tracing the raised marks his claws had left, savoring the small jolts and little gasps he drew when he touched a sensitive spot. He could tell the man yearned to react more, but yet he retained the self-control to remain bound as he was. "I wish I could ask you to demonstrate." This only made him squirm prettily at the thought. "Alas, we will both need settle for your eloquent words."

"It is thy desire that I should describe in detail how I—relieve my tension?"

"Very, very astute, Archon." And then Elidibus acted—he leaned down to the Archon, pressing a warm kiss to his collarbone, allowing his hair to brush over the man's skin. He gasped at this _reward_ for his compliance, his expression one of confusion, even as Elidibus continued to speak, commanding him. "Yes. In detail, if you would."

The Archon swallowed again; the visible part of his face very deeply flushed. "I will typically start by further riling my desire, for I have found 'tis sweetest when drawn out," he explained, his voice surprisingly steady considering his predicament. "I have little interest, I have found, in static visual depiction, but I have a few well-enjoyed tomes of erotic poetry, and other tales in prose recounting sensual encounters at length... some realistic, others clearly products of a keen imagination and a busy left hand." Clinical, yet... despite that, enticing.

"It's a pity you're in the position you're in, with neither hands nor eyes at liberty." Elidibus leaned down, starting to kiss down his chest. "Maybe next time I'll ask you to read to me while I test you so." Elidibus kept kissing down, feeling the elf quiver under him... leaned so as to allow him to feel silky locks against his skin, smirking when he felt the Archon tense, his focus on being still... obedient yet to his desire. "And then...?" he asked, between one kiss and the next.

The Archon took a deep breath. "And then—once I am no longer capable of further patience, I place the book aside so as to not sully it and open my robe, or at times doff it entire. I meditate upon what I have read and... stroke myself, accordingly to the fantasy in my mind. At times quick and forceful, at other times slow, bringing myself to the brink as a wave upon the shore—approaching and receding 'til I can no longer bear it." How very delightful, if less detailed than Elidibus had hoped for. Given the man's evident inexperience, it was an excellent starting point.

"I see." Elidibus opened the robe further, exposing more of the elezen's skin, leaning close so that he might brush his hair against him, drawing from the Archon gentle gasps and cautious writhing. Such a fascinating mixture of self-control and debasement. And then he at last uncovered the man's smalls, the sight only serving to confirm what both of them already knew. Poor, poor Archon. Why did you not tell me you were uncomfortable?" He smirked, gently running the back of a cold talon along his erection, observing his reaction closely—the way he gasped, his muscles tightening, his hips pressing into his touch. It was clear the Archon _desired_ this, now—that his seduction had been successful. All that remained was to make him well aware of his decision. He tugged gently on the cloth, and turned the sharp edge of the talon to cutting them away, freeing his member from the cruel prison that had bound it.  
  


"Unfortunately, I've taken from you the use of your hands. How cruel of me, really." He smirked, studying his Archon. "Will you end this now and take care of your own need? I would take no offense; you have already more than proven yourself." And he had—but it was fitting to offer further reward for going beyond one's expectations, was it not? "But, if you would prefer to remain bound and obedient to my desires, I will help to relieve your tension. You need only ask, my Archon." And with that, he pulled away, leaving the Archon bereft, his prick twitching slightly in desire as he considered his dilemma. As if there was any doubt to his answer.

"I—prithee," Urianger at last answered, his tone equally humiliated and lustful. "Touch me—stroke me— bring me to spill for thy hand, for thy words, and in this find proof of my surrender and my devotion."

Yes... of course words would serve as a potent aphrodisiac for one such as him. It was gratifying to know one had chosen the correct approach. "Such an obedient, ardent servant you've turned out to be." Elidibus started to pull off a glove and set It to the side, alongside his mask, then closed the newly bared hand around the elezen's prick, squeezing firmly. "Let this be your reward for being so _very_ well-behaved." And he started to stroke—still firm, but careful to not overwhelm the man yet.

Urianger moaned sharply, then bit his lip, clearly fighting to silence himself—to not betray the pleasure he was taking in such an act. And oh, to torment him so was sweeter even still. "Yes." Elidibus stroked again, enjoying the way the motion made his lover's hips rise. "Good boy... good." And that drew a whimper, sweet and lustful. He wondered if the Archon was still coherent... "Share with me your thoughts?"

"Thy—thy hand, wonderful—" Far more coherent than Elidibus had expected. Clearly he needed to push his Archon harder—mayhaps invoking his brilliant imagination.

"Yes... yes, it is," he purred. "What do you think of servicing me in other ways? I can think of no few means by which you could prove yourself further. Envision for me, if you would, being on your knees before me?" He could certainly imagine such, with how the mortal was reacting to this—gasping and trying to thrust into his hand, though the binds made that difficult. He would likely enjoy it, wanton creature he was proving to be.

"Yes—" he cried, just as Elidibus had expected. "I would offer the use of my mouth, to return to thee the favor thou hast offered unto me on this day. Suckle so obediently upon thy member, listening to thy sounds of pleasure and delight 'til I drew from it thy seed."

He deserved a reward, even if his pillow talk wanted for practice. "Oh, that sounds wonderful. Such a good boy--" And he stroked faster, harder—two, three, four times, enjoying the way the Archon arched so carefully so as to not break the binds, even in the midst of such a reward—and just as quickly resumed his original rhythm, feeling the man tremble and pant... observing as he frowned, somehow thoughtful despite the _teasing._

"Is it thine intent to see me trained to greater submission?" The poor thing—Elidibus could tell he'd been trying for stern, but his tone was far too needful for that. Elidibus had little doubt that—in the right circumstances, with the right partner, the Archon wouldn't hesitate to accept being _trained_ to submit.

It was then, clearly, his duty to help dispel the man's doubts—to bind him ever closer. He stroked, just a little faster, drawing a soft gasp from his Archon, and softened his voice. Let it be at once gentle and powerful and seductive. "It is. Of course it is." And he felt his Archon respond, his member twitching hard under his ungloved hand, shuddering in conflicted desire. Was it not his duty, then, to help him resolve such conflict? "You are a wonderful servant, and I would enjoy little more than training you further. So responsive, so eager to please, and your reactions delight me. Tell me the truth: does the thought of obeying my commands—of being a good boy for me-- not quicken your arousal all the more?"

And this time his Archon did not hesitate, so delightfully _responsive_. "I—Emissary—it does—" he stammered, breathless and licentious. This was to be rewarded, and was with more of the faster, tighter strokes, drawing another cry, even as his Archon remained still and disciplined. And oh, Elidibus had _ideas_ of how else he might test his beautiful Archon's resolve— craved to see him pushed to his very limits, to see what it took to _break_ him. Though not today—today his Archon had well-earned his reward. He slowed again and waited, expectantly.

And, in due time, his words came, as water spilling over a dam, interrupted by soft gasps and whines as Elidibus kept stroking him steadily. "Thine every word of praise is sweet as honey, and thy hand—when the stroking is swift and intense, it is bliss. Even when it is slow, it is... far better than my own ever hath been."

Excellent... and to be properly rewarded. "Yes—" He stroked faster, harder, bringing his Archon _close_ to the edge before backing away, savoring his sweet, needful sounds. "I would like to put your obedience and self-control to the absolute test, my Archon. And I will not fault you for failure... but, should you succeed, your reward will be sweet. Do you think you can be good for me, once more?"

The shamed hesitation was gone now, his need leaving him wanton in his desire. "I—yes, yes, prithee, test me—" he begged, quivering, still bound inexorably by Elidibus' will and the fragile strips of paper. "What must I do?"

"I've two commands," Elidibus said, drinking in his reactions. "First, do not break your bindings—remember that this ends the moment you do." He was well do for a reminder—Elidibus traced his talons back along the marks he'd left on the Archon's chest, over his arms. "The second is that you will come when and only when I command it." Then down, across his belly, and carefully—exceedingly carefully-- across the head of his prick, which sullied it with a drop of precome as the contact made the man whine and twitch, clearly brought close once more. Elidibus wiped it off on the Archon's robe before continuing. His Archon nodded—all the invitation Elidibus needed to continue. He stroked hard and fast, claw teasing over the man's thighs—which spread invitingly at the touch—then over the delicate, exposed sack, mindful to not do any harm. The Archon's back arched, pressing his head against the mattress, and Elidibus feared he would bloody his lip, biting it as he was. And yet he had not broken the bindings.

Elidibus rewarded him by stopping short once more. His Archon cried out in wordless frustration, shuddering and panting. "Remember," he growled. "Not until I command it. Be good for me." And then he continued, once his Archon had once again come down. Scratched at his thighs—wanting to see them marked, as well—and stroked the incredibly hard prick, causing his lover to make even more a mess of the bed, drawing keening cries that, had Elidibus not had the foresight to cast a veil of silence, would doubtlessly have gotten someone's attention.

And yet he was still, remarkably still. Even in the throes of bliss, utterly in command of himself _._ It was alluring, nigh intoxicating to know that he did this by his will, by his directive. "Yes... so good. So beautiful. I wish you could see yourself—so close to undone, and yet so very controlled, for no other reason than because I commanded it—" Next time, doubtlessly, he would need a mirror, so his Archon could see how wonderfully he submitted, flushed and hard and dripping. "Spill for me," he commanded, and his Archon did—crying out loudly, his prick jerking and spurting his essence over his belly, so very pent-up. And then it was over—he moaned softly, trembling and limp, clearly overcome.

Yes... such a wonderful creature, and one Elidibus would need to take proper care of if he hoped to keep him. He Created, now, a cloth—warm, damp—and started to clean him, noting with both some amusement that, even in the throes of pleasure, he'd somehow managed to not break the paper bindings. Urianger stirred, making a wordless, questioning sound, and tried to move, rustling the paper—stressing it.

It would hardly do to see it broken now. "Yes. Beyond all expectations." He allowed the pleasure to creep into his voice, and reached up to cut his servant free of the binds. "Here." Still very gently, very careful, he took his Archon's arms in-hand and lowered them to his chest, noting the way he made a soft, pained sound, seemingly not fully aware of himself. "You did well, so well. I'm very pleased with you." 

A soft brush with the Gift confirmed it—he'd pushed his lover hard, and he now wanted for proper care. Elidibus murmured soft, comforting things, knowing that the Archon would drift for some time, and Created now a blanket to wrap him in, then carefully pulled down his hood, careful to not let the sleeves catch on his ears. He gently stroked his Archon's hair, then massaged the man's arms—knowing that they would be sore and tense—and smiled as he felt the elezen relax entirely. He would need time. Once his Archon had settled, Elidibus moved to retrieve his mask and doff his remaining... soiled glove and cast a seal over the door, then pulled a chair up to the bed and settled to watch over him, entertaining a fantasy of keeping him after Hydaelyn's chosen had been dealt with, his keen intellect and clever mind turned to Elidibus' purposes... and, thus, the purposes of his God.

In time, Urianger stirred, sitting up slowly. The cloth over his eyes fell away, and he squinted into the light. "Water—"

Elidibus swiftly Created itand offered it to his Archon, holding the glass steady to his lips as he drank of it, thirstily. He noted how the man trembled and wondered if, mayhaps, he had been pushed too far. "Is there anything else you need, right now?" he asked. Doubtlessly it was his responsibility to ensure his dear Archon was well.

"Prithee." His voice shook in a manner that was utterly disarming. "Stay."

"Of course. Here, let me help you come down." Too far, indeed. Elidibus climbed into the bed with his Archon, regretting his choice of a relatively compact corporeal form as he maneuvered the elezen into his arms, so that his head was pillowed upon his chest. The Archon curled up, pressing against him, his body still wrapped in the blanket. Something sweet would help. Elidibus conjured a berry—one that hadn't been seen on the Source in several Rejoinings, very juicy and flavorful and, alas, extremely poorly suited to an overabundance of water—and pressed it to his Archon's lips.

The Archon looked puzzled for a moment, then his lips partied, and he ate the berry. "That's it," Elidibus murmured. Yes, he would make an excellent pet. "The food will help. I pushed you hard—likely in ways you've not experienced in the past. I'm very proud of how well you did, how obedient you were." And he offered his Archon another berry.

Urianger took it... and this time _licked_ his fingers. Elidibus felt the sensation—the firm tongue pressing against skin so rarely found unguarded by glove—bolt through him. Oh, this was _promising...._ but best to leave his pet wanting more. How very eager he would be, next time. "Now, be good, my Archon," he scolded gently, his grin making clear that he did not precisely disapprove. "Right now, I need to focus on you. We can play again another day." He fed his Archon a few more berries—these ones accepted in a far more _tame_ manner— before he continued. He did need to ensure his pet was _well_ before he left. "Now, I need you to answer my questions completely and honestly. Can you do that?"

Urianger nodded, his voice still unsteady, although less so than before. "As thou desirest," he murmured.

Good. "How do you feel right now?" Elidibus asked, watching him carefully—not just his verbal answers, but his posture.

His Archon frowned, considering his answer. "Better. Still light-headed-- floating. 'Tis difficult—compose thoughts to words. Not... not eloquent." Overloaded, then. It was little wonder that his dialect was more taxing than most... he wondered if, through sufficient pleasure, he could drive his pet _speechless_. It would be an experiment for another day.

"It's all right. It's typical to be overwhelmed after such an experience." He kept stroking his Archon's hair, giving him a steady physical sensation to anchor himself to as he continued his snack of berries. "It will pass in due time. How do the scratches feel? Are any of them sharply painful?" He was certain he hadn't cut too deep, but it was best to make sure of it.

The archon seemed mildly surprised, his hand moving under the blanket, following the raised welts the claws had left behind, and in time shook his head. Wonderful.

"Good," Elidibus purred, _quite_ pleased with himself. "You may heal them if you desire, but I was careful to only place them in areas covered by your robes. I confess, it fills me with no small amount of excitement to imagine you going about your business, reminded constantly of how I tested you every time the linen of your robe rubs against the healing marks." And oh, how this made his Archon squirm so wonderfully—he took note of this for next time—and then look up at him, so clearly trying to put words together, to respond, his lips stained with berry juice.

How best to put him further off-balance? With a soft smirk, Elidibus leaned down and kissed him, drawing a soft moan. And his pet did not pull away.

"You taste of berries," he observed, after he drew away... and offered his flushed, startled Archon another berry before he could formulate a response. Good. Let him stay this way, at once pleased and pampered and unstable. Urianger settled once more against his chest and ate the offered berries, until at last his acceptance of them slowed, his hunger sated.

Elidibus smiled softly and drew him in closer, wrapping the blanket around his Archon. "Rest," he directed as gently as he could manage. "I'll stay with you tonight. I've already ensured that we will be undisturbed until you've fully recovered." He didn't need to know that his spells had been in place from the beginning. His pet snuggled up to his chest and nodded, then closed his eyes, his exhaustion quickly winning over.

It was a start. Elidibus smiled, watching the mortal as he slumbered peacefully, wondering if he suspected that he was, in truth, cradled in the hand of a god. Maybe one day—once the Archon was fully _his_ —he would be ready to understand. It was, after all, nice to dream on occasion.

**Author's Note:**

> This debauched work was enabled by [Emet-Selch's Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/rQzRDVC), a Discord server for fanfic fans and authors alike (featuring the world's most wholesome bot incarnation of Emet-Selch to boot.) You're welcome to join us. 
> 
> 5.2 HYPE


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